Cafe Eclipse
by TsarinaRose
Summary: Bella is stuck all summer with a father she barely knows after her mother runs off with her new husband. Preparing for a boring summer, she accidentally falls into a new job at a café with a bunch of crazy people who all want to be her friend, including the mysterious Jasper Hale. Bella helps each of them with their troubles, but will they be able to help her? All human.


"Bella," my mother said with a sigh as she walked down the train platform toward me. She was in one of her high end fashionable dresses, making people's heads turn as she went. "Will you please try not to look so tortured?"

I smile at her tightly.

She sighs at this and walks closer, her high heels tapping loudly on the concrete. Like everything else in her life, they were new. "You know this is for the best. You can't stay at home by yourself all summer. You'll be lonely."

"I'll be fine, Mom," I said. "I'm nineteen."

She shook her head. "It's for the best."

The best for you, I thought. The thing about my mother was that she always had good intentions that she never acted on. Growing up with Renée as your mother was always unpredictable.

"Renée!" My step father, Phil, calls out to her by the car, tapping his watch. "We've got to get going if we want to make that flight!"

My mother puts her hand up at him and then looks me up and down. "All right. Be good. I've already called Charlie and he says he'll be there to pick you up at the station. I'll call you tonight after our flight, okay?"

"Yes."

The train in the distance lets out a honk and we both jump, startled.

"Bella," she says, and she pulls me close, burying her face in my black hair I had dyed this morning- she had nearly had a meltdown in the kitchen when she saw it. My small act of rebellion. "Please don't be mad. Okay?"

I hug her back, even though I am mad. I had planned to be completely cold this morning as the train pulled in, wanting her to feel guilty all summer while she was traveling around the country with Phil on his stupid baseball season. But I was spineless.

I pull away and walk toward the train.

"I love you," she calls as the doors open.

"I love you too," I said.

When I got to my seat I looked out the window and found her standing by the station door. She waved, in her fashionable glory, and I waved back, even as the lump formed hard and throbbing in the back of my throat. Then I put on my headphones, turned up my music as loud as I could, and closed my eyes as the train slipped away.

It hadn't always been like this.

In my earliest memory when I was four, I am wearing overalls and sitting on top of a café bench, eating small bites of lemon slice. It's a really hot day and my mother is bouncing around a café in her worn out sneakers, her hair tied back severely on her make up free face. But every ten minutes or so she would shoot me a smile, or kiss my forehead, asking, 'Are you all right, baby girl?"

Most of my early memories are all of this café back in Phoenix- and they were always happy. My mother and I were all we had and that was enough. It was always us.

Before she met Phil, she was a super woman. Renée was a college drop out who had worked eleven hour shifts at a thankless café job to support us. My first year of high school she had starting doing night shifts and bartending to pay for rent and my schooling, which meant I rarely saw her. When I did she was an exhausted shell of a person, barely capable of stringing a sentence together. So I took care of the cleaning, cooking and made sure the bills were paid on time.

One day, after driving home from work exhausted, Renee had accidentally smashed into a fancy sports car in a parking lot. Since she was broke and had no ways of paying to fix it, she had burst into a fit of tears in front of the owner.

The owner of that car had been Phil, my famous baseball playing stepfather.

He had charmed her into a date. At first, Renée had went out of guilt over the car. Then she started seeing him every week. Then that turned into twice a week until eventually she had brought him home to meet me. Phil coming into our lives had, on paper, made things better. My mother had quit her night job and eventually her café job too. When they were engaged, she had unofficially become Phil's manager- a career she didn't realise she was talented at. Within a year we had moved out of our shoe box apartment and into a house with a pool and my very own bathroom, with Phil included.

Sometimes I still think of us together in that café, me half asleep at the end of her shift while she hummed under her breath, serving coffee. I missed that version of my mother. I barely recognised the new one, with her designer handbags and expensive makeup.

When the train pulls into Forks an eternity later, the only person waiting was my father. He was in his uniform, but he is exactly as I remembered him from when I was a child. It had been nearly ten years since I had seen Charlie in person.

I stood on the platform, squinting at him.

"Bella," my father says, his eyes taking me in, shocked. I was sure Renée had sent him a few photos over the years, but I guess seeing your little girl as a woman was still strange. We talk a few times a year over the phone, but the conversations were very short and to the point. The two of us were very blunt people.

I looked up as he took a few steps toward me and we both half hug each other. When we pull away its so awkward I debate throwing myself in front of the next train.

We were stuck with each other for the entire summer.

"Those yours?" he said, pointing at the bags in my hand. I nodded and he took them.

We don't say a word as we get into the police cruiser. There is a heavy silence as he drives us to town through the tree lined streets. Charlie Swan was not a terrible person- he paid Renée double child support right up until I turned eighteen and he always made sure we were all right. Of course we weren't, but Renée was much too proud of a woman to ask an ex husband for help.

If anything, Charlie was lazy. Sure he called on my birthday and Christmas, like every obligated family member does. But that was the extent of our relationship. I had stopped coming to Forks for the summer, despising the small town. Charlie worked long hours and I was always bored and by myself. Once the trips stopped, the communication between us kind of stopped too.

Until Renée called him up and asked if I could stay with him for the next six weeks.

While I was nineteen and capable of looking after myself, Renée insisted that I come here, and I did.

Because I was spineless.

I think Renée was worried I was going down the same path as her and I needed supervision while she was gone. I had recently completed my first year of college and hated it with a passion. When I told her I had considered dropping out it had been bad. When Renée had seen me last year kissing a boy named Jacob, she freaked out even more, thinking I was going to be knocked up, just like her. So I dumped Jacob and I was going back unwillingly in the fall to study international relations and French, all while screaming internally.

"So, how was the train ride?" Charlie asks. The car smells super clean, and I was positive not a speck of dust would be found. It was weird being in a car that had a barrier between the seats and I wonder if Charlie ever had anyone dangerous sitting in the back.

"Fine," I say. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and barely recognise myself with my new black hair.

The radio suddenly cuts through the silence, and a woman's voice talks, saying a bunch of numbers and codenames. After she was finished, Charlie sighed. He glances at me.

"I have to stop at the station before we get home. I'm sorry, I know you've been on the train all day."

I shrug calmly, even though I am dying for a shower and a bed. "No worries."

Forks is so small that we are there in under ten minutes. Charlie mutters something under his breath and gets out, heading inside. I step out of the car, look around, and then take the cigarette pack that I had been hiding from Renée that morning. As I take a drag I crinkle my nose, but not at the tobacco scent- I could smell the ocean from here. The sky was beginning to darken as well and my stomach growled- I had not eaten today. Ten minutes pass and I take out another cigarette.

"You know I've read somewhere that those things will kill you," a smooth voice drawls.

I nearly jump and whirl around. At the head of Charlie's police cruiser, a man stands, his hands in his pockets.

"So I've heard," is all I say back.

He takes a step towards me, but I can't make out his face in the dark. "Mind if I have one?"

"You aren't worried about the death it will cause?"

He shrugs his shoulders. "Normally I would be. But today has been a difficult day for me, you see. And sometimes I like to live dangerously. For example, right now I am wearing white socks."

"That's living dangerously?"

"Oh yes." I notice that the man's accent is thick southern. "I start work in ten minutes, and if my boss sees me in white socks he'll probably fire me."

I'm silent.

"Because… my uniform is suppose to be all black."

"You're right. That is wild."

"I told you. Sometimes I live dangerously."

Wordlessly, I hold out the pack to him, and his slender fingers plucked one out. I pull out my lighter and flip it, and the flame briefly flickers across the man's face, revealing vibrant green eyes and honey blond hair.

"Thanks," he breaths out the smoke. Then coughs. "Wow. That is complete shit. How do you smoke those?"

In spite of myself I smile. "You're suppose to inhale slowly. Like this."

I demonstrate, slowly inhaling then exhaling. The entire time I feel his eyes watching me. Then he mirrors my actions- but he shakes his head in disgust, "Sometimes I live dangerously and then immediately regret it."

"Isabella?"

At the sound of my father's voice, I panic. Even though I am an adult and well within my rights to smoke, I quickly stomp on my cigarette and then shove the whole pack in the man's hand, who glances at me in shock. I do this all just as Charlie stops in front of us. He looks over at the man.

"I didn't know you were a smoker, Jasper," he says disapprovingly.

The man, Jasper, hastily steps on his cigarette as though he was a schoolboy being reprimanded by a teacher, "Er, yes sir. I smoke. Everyday."

Charlie looks at him, and then at me. "I see you've met my daughter?"

Jasper glances at me and nods. "Just passing the time before my shift starts."

"I've sorted out your problem. Charges are dropped since there is no evidence against you, but if you pull a stunt like that again I'm leaving you in the cell."

Jasper nods, and then salutes. "Thanks a million, chief, I better head out. Nice meeting you, Isabella."

He brushes past us and out onto the road without looking for cars, making a beeline towards a small diner. Charlie and I watch him, before he turns to me. "I just have to type up a quick report and then we can head out. Why don't you go across the street and get us some food to go."

I nod, trying not to show my annoyance as he hands me some money. "Sure."

The cafe was a small building on the corner, right before the exit to the bridge that crossed over to the mainland and across directly from the police station. It had one lone streetlight, a few parking spaces and a bright neon sign that said, OPEN. Above that, another sign read, CAFE ECLIPSE.

When I walk in, the first thing I saw was a small, pixie girl throwing some kind of fit.

"I swear to Jesus," she was saying to another girl, a curvy blonde with her hand on her hip. "If I don't get enough tips, I will murder someone with one of the knives in the kitchen."

"Okay," the blonde said. She was standing by the coffee machine, watching it brew with a disinterested look on her beautiful face.

"I mean it," said the pixie girl. She had a short haircut and was facing away from me. She glanced over toward the back corner of the restaurant, where a group of men were standing up and pushing in their chairs.

The blonde girl turned from the coffee machine and looked at me. She had on bright red lipstick. "Can I help you?"

"Just a takeaway," I say, my voice sounding loud in the almost empty room.

She jerks her head behind her. "Menu on the counter."

The pixie girl brushed past me as she came out from behind the counter, then stepped aside as the men left. The blonde settled in against the counter, watching me. Feeling small under her gaze, I scan the menu, seeing standard diner food, my mouth watering.

"I knew it!" The pixie girl said from across the room, standing by the table the men had just evacuated. "Barely a tip left!"

"Hm," the blond said, still disinterested. Then she looked over to me. "You ready to order?"

"Yeah."

"I'm not taking this crap anymore," the pixie said as she started across the room, her small feet slapping the floor with each step. The pixie girl stopped right next to me and slammed a handful of change down on the counter, one of the coins bouncing off to hit the floor. She began to take her bright red apron off, balling it up in her hands. "This is not worth the hours I put into this damn job."

The blonde looked over to me. "What can I get you?"

"Er… vegetarian lasagne, a cheeseburger and two cokes."

"Do you want a side salad with those?"

"No."

"I quit!" the pixie girl announces, throwing her apron at the blonde, who reaches up and catches it without even looking. "I quit this stupid job. I am sick of waiting on moronic customers."

She strides to the door, kicked it open with a bang and was gone into the night.

The blonde, still holding the apron, walked to the window and stuck my ticket on a spindle. "Order up."

"All right," a guy's voice said, and then I saw Jasper poke his head out to grab the ticket.

"Where's Alice? He asked.

"Quit," she replies in a bored voice. She pulls out a cosmopolitan from somewhere and began flipping through the pages.

Jasper smirks at this, then he sees me, standing there awkwardly. "Oh, hello Isabella Swan."

"Hi," I say. The blonde looks me over curiously.

"Come back for these?" he waves my pack of cigarettes in front of me before tossing them. Luckily I manage to catch them.

"Thanks."

"No worries. I enjoy lying to cops, especially the chief," he smiles so I know he is joking. "Like I say, living dangerously."

Jasper gives me a wave before disappearing back behind the window. I stood there, waiting for my food. I hear a radio playing softly in the background, a soft country melody. I take in the diner while I wait. All the chairs are a bright red, and it's the only colour that pops out among the grey and white. There were light bulbs spread throughout that hung low, and strange artworks hung on the walls. One entire wall was completely glass, and I could see outside into the woods, where the sky now pitch black.

The door behind me opens again, and the pixie girl walks back in- Alice- grumbling under her breath.

"Back so soon?" the blonde asked in a flat voice.

"I just remembered there is going to be a sale this weekend at urban outfitters," Alice sighs. As she passes, the blonde gives her back the bright red apron. "I need my paycheck."

"I know. We are going together, remember?"

"This is the last summer I work here," Alice declared, pulling her apron strings aggressively. "I mean it."

"Mm."

"I'm serious." Alice stalked over to a fridge, pulling out a bottle of water. Then she saw me. "Are you right?"

It's the first time I look Alice in the eye, and I almost reel back on my heels at the shock. On one side of her porcelain face was a huge scar that started at the corner of her eyebrow and down to under her jaw. As best as I can, I smooth my face to neutral. "Yeah."

"She's Charlie Swan's daughter," said the blonde.

Alice looked at me with new interest, eyebrows raised. "Really?"

"Yeah, remember the chief mentioned she was coming down" the blonde put her magazine down and turned her full attention to me. "Her and Jasper seem to already be pretty friendly with each other."

Alice smiled at me. "What's your name?"

"Bella," I say warily. My experiences with girls in groups always puts me on guard.

"What's the deal with your hair?" the blonde said bluntly.

"Rose," Alice said, elbowing her. "How old are you Bella?"

"Nineteen."

Alice came closer to me, tucking her short hair behind her ear. "How long are you down for?"

"Um…. the summer," I answer.

"Order up!" Jasper yelled from the kitchen.

"Cool… well you're right around the corner from us. Maybe we can go to the movies sometime while you're in Forks."

"Sure," I said, but I kept my voice low. "That would be—"

"Here you go," Rose, the blonde, said, dropping my food right in front of me.

"Right," I said, handing her the twenty, making sure I tip enough.

Rose stepped back, next to Alice, and squinted at me. "Can I tell you something?"

"No," Alice told her, her voice low.

I didn't say anything. So she did.

"Your hair is, like, repulsive." She scrunched up her nose as she said it.

"Rose," Alice said sternly in a Mom voice. "Stop it."

"The next time you decide to dye your hair," Rose went on, ignoring her, "you should try to get all of it one colour. A colour that suits your complexion."

"Rose," Alice said, grabbing her by the arm. Then she looked at me. "Bella," she said, like she knew me. "Just don't listen . . ."

But I didn't hear her, couldn't, was already gone, turning and walking out the door with the food in my hands to the parking lot before I even knew what was happening. Over the years I had perfected removing myself from these situations. It was kind of like automatic pilot; I just shut down and retreated, my brain clicking off before anything that hurt could sink in.

"Bella!"

I sat up in bed, forgetting momentarily where I was. Then it came flooding back: the train, Jasper and the two strange girls. I glance at my clock. 11pm.

"Bella?" It was Charlie, his voice right outside my door. "You have company. Downstairs."

I blink. I pull my jeans on and opened the door, looking down the stairs at the room below. What the hell did he mean by company? I had been in Forks for less than 3 hours, all of them awful. I had suffered though an awkward silent meal with Charlie before claiming I was exhausted, but really I just wanted to be alone.

I started down the steps, squinting as I came out of sleep. I was close to the bottom when I saw a set of feet in sandals by the door, followed by a tanned pair of legs, a small waist, blonde hair with pout lips and sharp emerald eyes. I stopped at the bottom stair,

"Hey," Rosalie said, she had her arms crossed over her chest. "Got a second?"

I hesitate on the stairs.

"I just want to talk to you, okay?" she snaps as if I already told her no. The she took a deep breath. This seemed to calm her down. "Okay?"

I don't why, but I said, 'Sure."

She turned and went out the front porch, leaving the screen door in a half swing for me to catch. Then she leaned against the railing, but her lip and looked out into the hard. Up close, in the moonlight, she was even prettier. This made it easier to dislike her for some reason.

Neither one of us said anything.

"Look," she said suddenly. "I'm sorry, okay?" She said this defensively, as if I'd demanded it of her.

I just looked at her.

"What?" she said. "What else do you want?"

"Oh my god, Rose," Alice stepped out of the shadows by the bottom of the steps, her face stern. "Could you just do it properly?"

"Shut up," Rose snaps. "Let me do it my way."

"Your way is shit."

Rose glares at her. Then she turns back to me, smoothing her hair. "Okay. I am sorry for what I said to you. I sometimes don't realise that I can be…" here she paused, looking at Alice.

"Blunt," Alice prompted.

"Blunt," Rosalie repeated. "What I said was rude and hurtful, and I understand if you don't forgive me." She looked at Alice, her eyebrows raised.

"But?" Alice said.

"But," Rose grumbled. "I hope you can forgive me."

"Um," I say, feeling weird. "Don't worry about it."

Alice lets out a sigh and then claps her hands together. "There. That wasn't so hard, was it?"

"I'm going home," Rosalie told her, her voice monotone. She bounds down the steps gracefully and across the yard to the little house across the road. We both watch her go, and Alice sighs again, though this times it's dreary. I look at her scar again.

"Rose isn't so bad," she said to me. "She just doesn't understand social cues. Emmett says she's just socially impaired."

"Emmett?"

"Oh, he works with us at the restaurant."

There was a sudden burst of music from the little house. Lights were coming on in the windows, and I caught a glimpse of Rosalie passing by. The music was cheerful, bouncy, and now Rosalie was dancing, a beer in her hand. She shimmied past the windows, shaking her hair, hips swaying.

Alice smiled, and she was so radiant I nearly forgot her scar. "She's a good friend to have." And then she went down the steps, across the yard and to the little house. When she got to thaw doorstep, she turned and waved. "We'll go to the movies sometime, okay?"

I wave, and watch as she opened the door, music spilling out. As Alice stepped in, Rosalie whirled by and grabbed her, grinning, shutting the door behind them.


End file.
